Shaken, Not Stirred
by run with all of the scissors
Summary: Mikael accidentally revived Ancano, but the ancient song's lustful power is thwarting Ancano's plans for revenge. Join the beloved Dragonborn and protagonist, Hugh-Janus, as he tries to do something about it. Mikael X Ancano
1. it all begins

It was a fine afternoon. The warm summer sun beat down upon the lovers who lay in the grass, snatching kisses from each other, as if it were illegal.

"Oh, Mikael," The young maiden slowly ran her hand down the bard's arm, "Would you perhaps consider giving me a private performance? I heard you've been working on an original piece. Perhaps, I could give some… inspiration in return?"

He let out a small laugh of little confidence, "Of course, my dear." He thought for a moment, then turned to the opposite side of the beautiful Nord and picked up his lute. He remembers when he was fucking around some scroll he found stashed in a barrel, hearing a song of poetry and romance from the future.

He strummed the lute lightly, caressing it in his arms as a steady rhythm began, as his okay voice sang,

" _My neck,_

 _My back,_

 _Lick my pussy and my crack."_

The woman furrowed her eyebrows and cocked her head, "That's -" Her sentence was cut short as a bolt of lightning erupted from the ground behind her. Dirt was sent flying everywhere, as both the woman and Mikael sat in awe. A filthy, nude, seething Ancano emerged from the ground. His light elven locks was a skeevers' nest as he was covered head to toe in the mud. The woman shrieked watching this hideous… thing be reborn.

Mikael stood up nervously, white-knuckling his lute to the point it might shatter. Ancano slowly stumbled towards them, still groggy after waking up from a month nap.

"Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" The woman snatched the lute from Mikael, and charged for Ancano, swinging the lute like a Warhammer. It hit Ancano right in the face, making a comedic sound of the entire body of the instrument being crushed. Ancano let out a yelp of pain as he felt to the ground, curling into a ball. The woman continued to beat the elf with a damn broken lute, never mind that magic could've been used in his defense.

She dropped Mikael's ruined lute and fled, as Mikael stood in disbelief, shaking in fear.

ONE MONTH BEFOREHAND

Hugh -Janus was surprised when he figured out he was "dragonborn." He just thought that the guards were being racist towards his scaly skin. It wasn't until Hugh noticed he was glowing and quote, "absorbing the dragon soul." Hugh honestly thought it was from the skooma.

All Hugh-Janus wanted was the typical college experience, a normal drunken party life. But noooope, some power hungry Altmer had to go and ruin everything. Fucking elves. Apparently, because Hugh-Janus is dovahkiin or whatever, not only must he slay dragons, but he has to save everyone else's ass. Now Hugh was stuck outside the wall of Whiterun, about to bury the dead body of said elf.

Hugh flopped the body off of Shadowmere's back onto the ground, and looked down at Ancano.

He wasn't going to lie to himself; The Thalmor's robes were pretty dank.

 _Well, He won't need them anymore._ Hugh figured as he violently shook the corpse out of the attire. Hugh-Janus always looked good in purple. The dragonborn stuffed the Thalmor robes into his satchel. Hugh picked up a nearby shovel, and began to dig a hole.

It was about at 4 feet deep, and Hugh-Janus was drenched in sweat, when a Thalmor Justicar, came passing by. Hugh kicked Ancano's body into the ditch.

"You, Aroginian!" The Altmer in robes pointed.

Hugh looked around and pointed at himself, "Me?"

"Yes, you. What are you doing?" The high elf crossed his arms in annoyance.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Hugh retorted, quickly shoveling some dirt back into the hole, to hopefully cover Ancano's face.

"It looks like your burying a dead body!" He stated the obvious, then the guards in their elven armor, pulled out their glass weapons.

"I'm burying my dead pet." Hugh lied, quickly shoveling more dirt into the hole.

The mage walked over to the ditch and peered in, then gasped. He turned to his followers and commanded, "Get him!" While pointing at Hugh-Janus as if he was some sort of monster. Rude.

Hugh winked, "I never said my pet was a dog," then followed the statement by swinging the shovel at the bossy high elf, causing him fall face first into the ditch. The other two solider looked in disbelief at Hugh, and then lunged at him, swinging swords as if they had no actual combat training.

Pissed beyond belief such disappointments are allowed to roam Skyrim, Hugh-Janus did some shout or some shit and the two elves were fried to a crisp. Off into the distance, the prisoner ran, arms still tied. He tripped and fell onto the road, but carried on, and continued to get up and keep running. A tear trickled down Hugh's Argonian face.

"Be free." He whispered to the man at the horizon.

Hugh was wearing his Ring of Namira, so he did take a nibble of one of the guards. Charred elf tasted like fish sticks.

 **plz no h8 this is my first skyrim fanfic I heart elderscroolz five r &r thx **


	2. no homo

"My Thane, might I suggest that we throw out these, um, horse haunches? They're been stewing on the ground and are part of the fly infestation." Lydia wrinkled her nose in disgust at twelve pieces of raw meat scattered on the ground in the alchemy lab.

"I'll deal with it later." Hugh rolled his eyes and took another swig of the spiced wine. Hugh-Janus does enjoy the finer things in life. Except that Hugh for some reason still put up with that bitch of a housecarl, Lydia, and the shithole that is Breezehome. But Breezehome was a nice bachelor pad for the argonian, it had enough space for him to throw his empty wine bottles and dirty smallclothes wherever he desired. He would one day like a nice home like Proudspire Manor, but fully renovated, it came with a kid's bedroom. Hugh wasn't ready for that kind of commitment to a house. Plus, by buying Breezehome, Hugh had enough extra money to feed his skooma addiction.

Hugh laid back and enjoyed his "me-time." Out slaying dragons, and solving Nordic Puzzles took a toll on him. Always up and about. Never a time to sit, and enjoy life, by the fire with a good bottle to down. The warm sensation on his feet, the drink burning his throat, it was truly beautiful.

 _Life, is beautiful._ Hugh thought to himself, closing his eyes.

A knock was heard on the door, "This is the Janus residence, yes? Hugh-Janus? I swear if this is another prank delivery-"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Hugh cried out, jumping from his seat and slamming the wine bottle on top of the bookcase. Lydia stood up from the dining table and answered the door to find the courier.

He ran past Lydia and approached Hugh, "Got something for you- your hands only."

"Who's it from?" Hugh wiped a little off sweat off his scaly eyebrow and tried not to look visibly annoyed.

"Neloth of House Telvanni," The courier handed over the letter to Hugh-Janus, "Well, that's all." He did a polite bow and exited from the same door he entered. _Cute ass,_ Hugh thought to himself, _No homo._

Lydia closed the door behind the guest, "Is that considered trespassing, my Thane?"

Hugh hushed her and opened the letter, breaking the seal with his reptilian talon. He cleared his throat and read aloud to Lydia, and to himself,

 _Hugh Janus, Thane of Whiterun,_

 _Pick me up at the Windhelm docks at-_

Hugh didn't even need to continue the letter. Groan. Heroes should get a day off, where everyone else looks for their own ancient books, or collects their own damn family treasures.

...

"You could've used the stairs." Lydia grumbled, pulling the furs over the drenched Hugh Janus.

"It was a shortcut." Hugh shivered. He thought it would cut some time, to jump off the bridge and plunge into the water outside of the Windhelm docks. He barely missed the ice by a foot, as he screeched, "YOLO!"

Natural selection has failed us.


	3. master neloth is daddy material

"There a lot of people who rely on your power to keep them safe." Lydia stated firmly, handing the alcohol Argonian a flask.

He took the flask, then took a generous swig, feeling the booze burn the back of his throat, down into his shivering body, "Well, I guess the people of Skyrim would have to figure out their fucking own problems." Hugh sighed, looking into the fire.

"Speaking of which," Hugh began. He pulled some jewelry from his inventory, and handed it to Lydia.

Where it had come from, Lydia chose not to worry about it. It probably was stolen, like most things Hugh acquires. She rolled her eyes so hard, she could see the back of her skull, "I am sworn to carry your burdens."

"Good, good housecarl." Hugh praised her as graciously as he could muster up.

To be quite honest, the transition from the bridge, into the water, then into the second floor Candlehearth Hall, had been quite the adrenaline filled adventure. Also, the skooma had been finally wearing off. But all leftover feeling of drunken highness had been instantly perished, with what had just made its way into the room. Master Neloth. His buzzed hair looked as thinning as ever.

Hugh put on the fakest bitch smile he could, and stood up from the chair he sat in, "Oh, Neloth, so happy to see you! How's the mushroom estate?" He held out his arms to hug the telvanni wizard like those moms at PTA meetings who secretly talk shit behind each other's back and argue that creationism should be taught instead of evolution.

Neloth recoiled away from Hugh-Janus and his inviting hug, "Get away you insufferable, scaley oaf! I'm the best, most powerful wizard in all of Morrowind, and this is how I'm greeted?"

"I thought I was being fucking polite, asshole." Hugh barked, instantly retracting his arms.

Lydia tried to interject, "Well, actually, Thane, you should look for yourself." She walked over to gesture towards out the window.

Hugh made his way over to the window, and with his reptile-like reflexes, dodged a molotov cocktail that shattered its way through the glass into the upper level onto the floor. Lydia began stomping out the fire, as Hugh peered out the window.

What Hugh-Janus saw was horrific. Below the streets, in front of the steps leading towards The Palace of Kings,

Thousands of Nords were rioting in the streets. They held cloth banners, and screamed and hollered. Men, women, and children were pushing each other in a frantic frenzy, while chanting something angrily.

"We need to see what is happening," Hugh-Janus stated, dragonborn senses kicking in. He instantly sprinted downstairs and out the backdoor of the Inn.

Lydia huffed in annoyance, and followed Hugh downstairs, along with Master Neloth.

At last, the group of three could make out what was being said.

"BUILD THE WALL!" The warriors cried.

"BUILD THE WALL!" The children screamed. 

"BUILD THE WALL!"

"BUILD THE WALL!"

Hugh stood there, taking the scene in.

Neloth muttered, "Do you see the issue at hand, Hugh-Janus?"

Hugh shot a dirty look at Neloth.

Suddenly the crowd began to change to cheering, as the man, the myth, the legend, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, stood at a podium. He silenced them by raising his left hand, and slowly bringing it down.

"We are going to build a wall," Ulfric bellowed, so loud, Hugh could hear him from the back of the crowd, "And we're going to make Morrowind pay for it." He lifted his war axe into the air.

The crowd cheered in delight. A Nordic warrior pushed his way through the crowd to get into Neloth's face, "BUILD THE WA-"

But he was silenced as Neloth grimaced and simply stated, "Not today." and shocked the poor bastard with just one finger elven on placed onto his chest. The body fell to the ground onto the stone ground with a meek thud.

"I think we should get going," Hugh suggested, before anything can get worse.

Lydia nodded, "I'll get a carriage ready."

…

"Winterhold College, are you shitting me?" Hugh exclaimed, stacking the last bit of Neloth's luggage, "I don't have the patience to ride there."

"Did you not read my letter or can all you do is challenge authority and dragons?" Neloth asked, climbing into the carriage.

"Actually, I do a myriad of different things."

"Like drinking and skooma," Lydia muttered to herself.

"EXCUSE ME, _Lydia._ But nobody was asking you. Speaking of which," He climbed into the carriage and popped the cap off a vial of skooma, "Here's to a faster ride."

…

The ride to Winterhold was boring, yet fascinating; hours were spent watching Hugh go between a state of trance, and extensive paranoia.

Least to say, when the trio arrived at the College of Winterhold, Neloth swore to never to ask Hugh to escort him somewhere again. He would rather ask his steward to do it, but the new one was dead, too. Hugh didn't kill Mongrul, nor pay the debt of Drovas, who had become the new steward of Neloth, after Verona's untimely and bothersome demise. Quite annoying, the first, now the second, and nobody in Solstheim was interested in the job..

Meanwhile Lydia was unpacking all of Neloth's things, setting the luggage into the soft snow, and paying the driver.

Hugh walked up the bridge steps, reminiscing his college days, and the disheartening lack of parties and showing up to lectures hungover. Now he was arch-mage of the place, and Hugh only knew like, five spells.

"Be very careful with that!" Neloth snapped, instructing Lydia how to set down his bags, and carry them up and across the bridge in the frigid cold.

Tolfdir greeted Hugh at the gates of the college.

"Ah, Arch-Mage! Have you found my alembic?"

"Heh, not yet, man." Hugh-Janus sheepishly shrugged, not wanting to state that he hand found it, then misplaced it in a random barrel. Probably where that misplaced elder scroll went, too. Fucking barrels despawning Hugh-Janus' shit.

"Well, it's bound to be around here!" Tolfdir exclaimed, like the crotchety old man he is, then he proceeded to lean in and whisper, "There are also, important matters to address, regarding the Thalmor and the college."

"Oh look! It's Master Neloth of House Telvanni! A master of the arcane!" Hugh-Janus gasped, and placed his hands upon his scaly cheeks, turning towards the decaying bridge where Lydia held about twelve pieces of luggage and Neloth rode her heels.

"WhAT AN HONOR!" Tolfdir probably jizzed in his pants a little because Master Neloth is 100% daddy material.

"Yeah, there he is. Master Neloth can have my room. Not like I use it anyway now that I have the Arch Mage quarters."

"Wait just a moment," Neloth pushed past Lydia, sending her toppling over, "I am the most powerful mage of Morrowind. I am not sharing a room with mere apprentices."

Hugh just shook his head, "Fine. Lydia, show him to his room." Hugh clapped his hands twice, as if he was talking about a butler.

"My thane, I've never been here befo-"

"LYDIA WE HAVE TALKED ABOUT YOUR ATTITUDE PROBLEM. TAKE NELOTH TO HIS QUARTERS. WE WILL DISCUSS THIS WITH THE BELT."

Lydia finished picking up the bags, she muttered to herself, "Mm.. belt… hate the belt… dragonborn…. Fucking belt…" And she wandered off with Master Neloth.

"Ah yes, Arch-Mage," Tolfdir began, stroking his beard, "The Thalmor are demanding we send Ancano's remains, but they seem to have… disappeared? They are coming next week to personally pick up since we have failed to send them."

Hugh froze where he stood. "I wasn't supposed to bury him?"

"What? No! That's the Thalmor's business, not ours!"

"Oooh shit. Sorry," Hugh-Janus forced a chuckle, "Guess it's just one of those habits."

Tolfdir raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, Hugh awkwardly coughed, "Yes, well, I'll retrieve the body."

"LYDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!' Hugh hollered, and instantly, as if she had developed a sixth sense, she sprung into action and ran outside.

"Y-Yes, My thane?" She bent forward, and placed her hand on her chest while trying to recover her breath in the icy air, her heavy breaths causing puffs of steam

"We're going to Whiterun. Possibly by fast travel."


	4. ( ᵔ ʖ ᵔ )

**when u write fanfiction in class, then finish it 2 month l8r out of skool**

 **pls review and fav if u made it dis far thx love u bby see u Sunday**

 **Im not thirsty i swear**

* * *

"There, There," Hugh spoke in a comforting manner, lighting patting Lydia's back with the end of a staff.

Lydia coughed roughly, and continued to hurl into the bush, outside the wall of Whiterun, "M-My thane, please, let me not get in the way of what we came to do." She spoke with a raspy voice, trying to stand up.

Hugh shook his head, "Well, perhaps if you had mentioned this to me BEFORE we left for Whiterun, we wouldn't have this issue."

Lydia furrowed her brows, "Pardon me, My Thane, but when _haven't_ I been motion sick from fast travel?"

"Well sorr-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey," He squinted at his housecarl, "Don't speak to the dragonborn like that. I can't help that you non-legendary losers can't handle my power. " He wagged his reptilian claw at Lydia, who turned back around to now dry heave into the bush.

Hugh ignored her, and made his way to the southeast walls of Whiterun. Where did he bury Ancano again? He should've put a tombstone or something. He could have written an epitaph. Something classy like;

" _Here Lies Ancano, That High Elf Thalmor Dude."_

 _He most likely had serious daddy issues, not really missed except for the people who delusionally thought he was attractive._

 _Murdered by Hugh-Janus, the Dragonborn, Arch-Mage of Winterhold college, Leader of Theives Guild, Listener of the Night Mother, Vanquisher of evil and accidentally good, Thane of Whiterun, Bard, and Argonian, in self defense."_

Hugh definitely was not a narcissist.

* * *

"P-Please, my elven overlord! I'll do anything!" Mikkael cried out into the darkness. He was shivering from the cold, only wearing his light tunic and boots, his arms were chained in shackles above his head, and his feet were chained to the ground, to where he was only able to sit on his knees.

Mikkael eventually had stopped crying out, trying to man up. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

 _Finally, The screaming stopped, I was starting to get a grievous migraine._ Ancano rubbed his temples, and started to make his way downstairs to the dungeon of the cave. _But if it stopped screaming that means the prisoner might be dead._

Mikkael heard the sounds of steps coming down the stairs and tried to hold his breath and pee.

What a pussy.

When Ancano entered the room, he couldn't help but laugh cruelly, "Whimpering, are we?"

Nobody would have the guts to tell Ancano the truth, and that is, a month of being buried dead can do some things to youthful skin. Like, in this instance, decomposition. It was more prevalent now that Mikkael could see the elf in the torch light, and not being completely immobilized by fear, that Ancano was in the middle of decomposition, he had several holes in his skin, where maggots and flies, fester inside. His skin was sloughing off his own face. Lastly, his stench was absolutely awful, like hookers from Vegas teamed up to make a _Cory in The House_ anime brand perfume.

"W-What are you gonna do to me?" Mikkael cried out, "What do you want from me?"

Ancano stopped in his tracks, and held his breath, he made his way to Mikkael, "I find you," he lifted his hand and removed his leather glove, caressing the terrified bard's face. "intriguing."

Mikkael turned away, "H-how so?" He asked, avoiding eye contact with his captor.

Ancano's slender hands made its way to Mikael's blonde hair, he timidly admitted, "In a way... I've never felt before." Ancano hated this feeling, so vulnerable and weak. He stood up, his face began to grow hot with embarrassment, as he turned away from his captured prize. Cherry blossoms swirled around them in the dungeon, and both of their hair fluttered in the wind.

"W-What?!" Mikkael cried out in surprise. His face was as red as a japanese anime school girls'.


End file.
